


In Need of a Hero

by KiaSqueaks, MistressPandora



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Apis - Freeform, Bees, Botanist Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel & Charlie Bradbury Friendship, Castiel (Supernatural) and Bees, Charlie Bradbury & Sam Winchester Friendship, Charlie vs Sam, Confused Castiel, Crime Fighting, Destiel - Freeform, Doctor Crowley, Exhibitionist Dean, Feeding, I'm Going to Hell, Like the Fonz but with a Tail, M/M, Masturpouting, Nighthunter, Older Castiel, Public Claiming, Spanking, Superhero Castiel, Superhero Dean, Those butts though, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Top!Cas, Where's my handbasket?, Wing Orgasm, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester, bottom!Dean, unaMOOSEd Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-02-28 00:34:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13259889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiaSqueaks/pseuds/KiaSqueaks, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressPandora/pseuds/MistressPandora
Summary: Apis is the only superhero in the city until a new guy shows up to a bank robbery calling himself Nighthunter. Can Apis figure out who the newcomer is? And more importantly, can he stop staring at his ass?





	1. Like the Fonz, but with a Tail

“I’d like to go on record and remind you that this is, without a doubt, your dumbest stunt yet.” Sam's voice came through the earpiece jammed in Dean’s right ear as if his moose of a brother was standing right next to him in all his bitchy glory.

It wasn’t like this was a new conversation. Dean had been subjected to it countless times before after all. The first was when he had brought up the idea of fighting crime. When he had been trying to figure out an outfit and secret identity--that one had come with an endless supply of mocking. When he had settled on the name Nighthunter and made his super suit out of black spandex and leather. All because on his twenty-third birthday he'd woken up with a tail and the inability to get through a door without bumping into thin air. Once he'd stopped freaking out and come to terms with the fact that he, Dean Winchester, was a bona fide superhero, it was smooth sailing. Except for Sam's bitching and nagging every step of the way, but that was nothing new. It wasn't Dean's fault his brother was a seventeen year old prodigy and the natural choice for his own personal Overwatch. He even had long hair.

"Are you sure that you want to do this? Just because there’s been chatter online about hitting up the Midtown Central Bank doesn’t mean it’s actually going to happen. It’s probably a bunch of basement-dwelling mouth breathers who want to pretend they’re actually cool and can do something daring. You’re going to look like a moron going in there. And even if they do try to rob the bank, you’re not Superman Dean, you could get hurt,” came the second half of Sam’s same tired nag.

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to look like a moron,” he said. “I’m wearing leather. I’ll look like the Fonz with a tail.”

Sam’s sigh crackled through the earpiece as he ran a hand over his face, ending with his forefinger and thumb digging into the corners of his eyes. Either he was going to end up taking care of a whiny Dean, or it would all succeed and Dean wouldn’t be able to fit his head, or his ego, into the Impala. “Look Dean, all I’m saying is that this is the kind of thing we should bring to the professionals. The cops, hell even Apis… you know, the guy who takes care of the bad guys in this city beside the cops and actually knows what the hell he’s doing?”

The silence that followed made Sam’s heart sink into his stomach. Damn, now Dean was definitely going to do this.

Dean’s mouth fell open. “I know what I’m doing! I’m the superhero in this duo, remember? Stop nagging, Felicity.”

Sam let out another long suffering sigh. “Fine,” he muttered into the phone. “What do you see happening there? I’m trying to get the traffic cams.”

“Quiet so far,” Dean said from his position on the roof across the street from the bank. “Wait a minute, there’s a van pulling up around the corner.” He squinted through the falling light of dusk. “Someone’s getting out. Make that three people. Guys, in black. Oh my God, they’re actually wearing ski masks. This is definitely going down.”

“Be careful, Dean,” Sam pleaded as he strained to listen, worry eating at his stomach.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Nighthunter when we’re working?”

 ~*~*~

Castiel added new flowering plants with a specific sweet nectar to his garden. His eyes traced the flight patterns of two large bumblebees that flew around the daylilies near the fence. He was lost in the easy task of mindless labor that came with tending a large flowering garden. It was satisfying to find and transplant new species of flowers to supply his six unique hives. The bees loved the dopamine-spiking treats they got from the various flowers and plants that he had been adding to his large acreage.

Many found his fascination and appreciation for bees to be odd and eccentric. Castiel never minded the polite but vacant stares when he tried to explain the reason behind his passion. Instead, he took each opportunity to educate others on the importance of bees and how their survival was paramount to the survival of humans. It was often lost on those with lesser appreciation for the flying insects.

The setting sun warmed his back, beaming down over his bared arms. The tension melted out of the muscles in his neck and shoulders as he relaxed into the mundane task. His hands dug into the cool, fragrant dirt as he ensured a stronger root system for the transplanted flowers.

He felt a slight shift in the atmosphere of the garden and forced back a sigh at being disturbed. “Hello, Charlie,” he said, gravelly voice muted so as not to startle his friend as she approached from the house.

She tended not to disturb him when he was working with his bees, but when she did he knew it was usually important. Still, his eyes followed the flight pattern of the closest bee. He waited until Charlie was only a few feet away before tearing his gaze away from the bumblebee to focus piercing blue eyes on her face.

“What brings you out in the garden?” he asked her, his tone even and quiet despite the hint of curiosity in his eyes. The anticipation made his wings shift just beneath his skin. The translucent feathers gave a subtle ruffle that only the bees seemed to notice, flying a little faster in sympathy. “Shouldn’t you be home already? It’s after six.” His eyes caressed the soft lines of the garden in the fading light. Summertime was always his favorite because the sun was out long enough for him to garden when he was done with paperwork for the lab. Still it was well after time for her to be off work, so that limited the choices of why she was out to see him.

Charlie tapped and swiped at the tablet in her hand. “I know, but I picked up something. Someone tripped the alarm at the Midtown Central Bank. Thought you might like to know. Since the bank has been closed for over an hour, it sounds like a break-in.”

Castiel sighed and he felt his wings twitch and flutter a little harder, attempting to escape. He willed them to settle as he brushed the dirt from his hands and then stood, his shoulders settling back into the their usual tense position. Cas always felt uncomfortable in his own skin. The problem made worse by his usual clothing which swamped him despite his rather impressive physique.

He nodded to her and sighed as he made his way into the house, letting her follow after him. “Do you have any more details?” he asked, striding towards his study and slipping into the side room where he kept his Apis outfits. He was an expedient dresser and slipped into the form-fitting suit easily. It emphasized the broadness of his shoulders, the strength in his thighs and the lean, corded muscle that covered his body. He was hardly a bodybuilder but he was quick and agile with strength his body couldn’t account for.

Castiel listened with half an ear as Charlie filled him in on the rest of his information. He knew there were five robbers wearing masks breaking into Midtown Central. He had approximately ten minutes to get there to have the best chance to catch them in the act of theft.

He pulled the suit up and around his body, the soft material catching and molding to his body like a second skin. He had felt ridiculous the first time that he put on the suit, worried it looked like he was wearing nothing at all. It felt obscene and he had battled the feeling of being completely exposed and vulnerable for weeks after picking it out. It hadn’t been his first choice, but Charlie convinced him that any good superhero would wear a suit. It had to be something out of character for his normal public appearances for it to hide his identity. And the black and yellow skin tight spandex was hardly in character for the mild-mannered botanist.

That was a main part of being a superhero after all, keeping his identity a secret. Superhero was synonymous with vigilante after all. It wouldn’t do for Castiel Novak, the youngest and most illustrious of his brothers to be arrested for vigilantism, especially when he was known as the responsible scientist on the national stage.

He donned the mask, glad his hair was short and arranged so that it didn’t fall into his eyes. He glanced at the mirror and then finally relaxed that part of him that he always gripped in tight control. Letting his wings escape from his skin and expand out behind him, they stretched to their fullest after their long confinement.

His wings had been the biggest surprise of the transformation, the part of his changes that had been the hardest to get used to. When he was thirty, he had been working with a specific african bee that was experiencing hardships surviving unassisted. He had been studying them and their food sources to find a way to preserve the wild hives and keep them from becoming endangered or extinct. They were beautiful bees, but rather aggressive and he had been swarmed twice while working with them.

He had been finishing up an article about the feeding habits of the bees after a long night in the lab, well after everyone else had left. Unbeknownst to him, a single bee hadn’t returned to the hive. He barely paid attention to the flights of bees at that time and didn’t notice when it got closer to him. Then he’d been stung. It had come as a huge shock to Castiel as he hadn’t been anywhere near the bee or acting in an aggressive manner towards it. The sting had been excruciating and he used a histamine gel to counteract the swelling and pain. He didn't give it a second thought as he shut down his computer and left for the evening.

That night… something inside of him changed. He was up all night, delusional, feverish, and anxious as his body reacted to the sting and began to mutate itself. He couldn’t remember all the details, but he had woken up the next morning to concerned knocking at his bedroom door. He found wings coming out of his back and the inability to control his own strength.

The memory of the hopelessness and fear sent a shiver down his spine and out through his wings, causing him to glance in the mirror again. His blue eyes crackled with intense pleasure as he spread his wings out again in a glorious stretch. The dimming light from the sunset caught his feathers and let them sparkle like iridescent shards of glass as they ruffled and settled in place. It made no sense to him that his wings were feathered, even if they were iridescent like those of a bee. Still, he loved his wings. He was grateful for the suit and anonymity of being Apis which allowed him to stretch them out and stop hiding from the world.

A soft knock on the door, followed by Charlie's voice. “Castiel, are you going? You're running out of time.”

Castiel roused himself from his pensive inner-reflections and shook his head and wings to get himself refocused on the task at hand. “I’m going,” he agreed and strode out past Charlie. He opened the french doors that led to his study’s balcony and launched himself into the air toward the robbery in progress. He had bad guys to catch. Then he could brood about his bodily changes and perhaps even the acute loneliness he’d been feeling recently.

Flight was still a glorious rush that left him lightheaded and always a touch skinstarved. The ruffling of the wind through his feathers and hair, the speed that clenched his stomach, and the dips from thermal fluctuations were better than masturbation and as heady. So much so, that when he landed it took a few deep breaths to be able to compose himself enough to slip inside the bank.

The sight that greeted him was so surprising, it felt like he was still flying through the lower atmosphere.

Four of the would-be robbers were still present, sprawled unconscious across the marble floor of the old bank, their masks discarded. They were young, as might be expected, innocent-looking while unconscious. Two were particularly baby-faced. Castiel hesitated as he took another step inside, the unmistakable sound of a fist hitting flesh catching his attention to the right. His wings fluttered under the wave of confusion coursing through him.

The vibration of his wings must have distracted one of them. The last remaining robber--clad in grey sweatpants and a black hoodie with a ski mask--landed a devastating right hook to the other man's face. The sickening thud echoed in the vast, empty building as the other man turned towards Castiel in response to his ruffled feathers. He recovered nicely after the punch, and brought around an uppercut that laid the last robber out on the ground, unconscious.

Castiel stared at the other man, his mind blanking at what to say for several long moments. His eyes traveled across the other man’s body, searching for clues. The man before him was tall, an inch or so taller than Castiel was. A combination of spandex and leather left little to the imagination and many questions burning in the back of Castiel’s traitorous mind. The man was bow-legged, his thighs thick and muscled where they were encased in skin-tight spandex that disappeared into tall leather boots. The man’s torso was powerful and wide, accentuating the narrowing of his hips from the his powerful shoulders and the near perfect symmetry of his jaw.

Castiel felt somehow powerless as his eyes drifted up from the hairless jaw to thick, somewhat chapped pink lips. He hadn’t expected that, or that those same lips he was inadvertently staring at were spreading into a smirk. Freckle-flecked dimples popped into existence with the motion. Castiel's cheeks heated and his wings shuddered, sending the setting sun flashing over his nearly invisible feathers. He forced his eyes to look further up, noting deep green eyes surrounded by a black half-mask, like his own.

“Who the hell are you?” He demanded once he found his voice, embarrassed he’d been caught staring at this younger, smirking man who was no less attractive for the blooming bruise over his left cheek.

The young man in black smiled and licked his lips. “Nighthunter,” he said proudly. “I'm your new help.” His tail shivered, the light brown fur standing on end.

~*~*~

Sam hated the feeling of helplessness and the burning need to be there with Dean as soon as he heard the fighting start. Worry continued to eat away at his gut as his “overpriced” vanilla latte went cold beside him and he listened to the fight winding down. He heard the suckerpunch crack over the earpeice and he felt his spine tighten as Dean’s grunt before it went quiet. “Dean? What’s going on?” He asked before he heard Dean’s “flirty” voice come through “ _Nighthunter, I’m your new help.”_ Jesus.

~*~*~

Castiel floundered for a moment and blinked as he tried to figure out what that meant. “I don’t need help,” he said, his deep voice void of emotion as he tried to figure out a better response. Was there a better response? His wings seemed to think the man was much more appealing than his brain did as they fluttered lowly, the vibration tightening the fur on the newcomer’s tail.

The scientist in Castiel felt a stab of fascination at the visible reaction to the vibration of his wings, and he wondered if it would happen again. On their own volition, his interest set his wings vibrating again in a different pattern and he his eyes were drawn down once more, watching as Nighthunter’s tail flexed and twitched in response, fur pattern twisting and settling.

Dean looked around at the bad guys on the floor. “Of course not. But I have to do _something_ on a Saturday night.”

“I hear most people enjoy going to the cinema,” Castiel offered as an alternative to coming in here and fighting with random degenerates and law breakers. Even if this new, obviously younger, man did look attractive in his costume and had effectively taken down the bank robbers, it wasn’t his job to fight crime.

Nighthunter flashed a winning smirk as sirens approached from the distance. “You asking me to go to the movies with you, Apis?”

Castiel felt a stir in his stomach, something about that easy, boyish grin woke his body, much to his discomfort. “I… That was not the intention of my suggestion.” He shifted and reluctantly drew his wings into his back as he heard the police cars pull up outside. “It is best you leave now, the authorities will not be pleased to find someone here they are not acquainted with.”

“Maybe next time then,” Dean said with a wink and slipped out the door and around the corner before the police could stop him, his tail aloft behind him.

~*~*~

Dean didn't stop until he was six blocks away and the sound of sirens had faded into the distance. He leaned back against a brick wall, chest heaving with the exertion of the fight and his run. “Sam,” he breathed. “He's hot.”

“Oh my god Dean.” Sam’s frustrated tone came through, though it was softened with the hint of relief and fondness. “You’re such a fucking idiot,” he muttered. “I’ll see you at home,” he said dryly before severing the connection.

~*~*~

Apis brusquely dealt with the police officers, detailing that the men had been caught in an attempt to rob the bank. He slipped away when one came up swinging, and flew back home to his gardens. He had a million questions running through his mind, whipping through as fast as the wind was through his hair and feathers.

The most important one, of course, was: _who is he?_


	2. Rubbing it Backwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas has a nice long masturpouting session and Dean gets a Twitter.

Dean collapsed on the couch in the small apartment he and Sam shared. Their dad had died last year and left them alone with at least a large life insurance claim. Sam was in his first year of college and Dean worked as a mechanic for a friend of the family. He sank low into the sofa and rested his head on the back of it, staring at the ceiling, his work coveralls in a crumpled heap by the door. “You should've seen him, Sam. Those eyes? So blue. And his wings--wow. Did you know he has actual feathers? I thought they would have been like a bee but they're not.” His tail twitched and twisted at the memory and he pulled his leather gloves off.

“So what I’m hearing is that you’re using this new superhero gig as a way to hook up with a feathered vigilante. It’s nice to know your personality hasn’t changed with your appearance,” came his brother’s dry reply. “Go pick up your mess.”

“Be nice to me, I'm pining,” Dean whined, sitting up to unzip his boots. “I've got to see him again. What else is going on online? Anything good?”

Sam sighed and opened his laptop before coming over to slump on the couch beside his older brother. This might not have been how his little brother envisioned his life going when their dad had died. Although the amount of available alcohol hadn’t diminished in the slightest, so that was a perk, at least. “A few missing pet ads.” He mentioned after a few moments of clicking around. “Uh, missing person, two break-ins.” He glanced over at Dean. “Nothing the cops can’t handle tonight.”

“That's stuff that's already happened. I need real time! Come on, you're a genius. You can do this. You'll find me something tomorrow. Right?” He turned his best Sam impression on his brother, big puppy dog eyes and pouty lips.

“Hypothetically, are we doing this because you want to help other people or because you want Apis to put his a-penis in you?” Sam asked.

Dean yanked off his boots, trying to hide the sudden blush staining his cheeks. “Can't I have both?”

“Gross, Dean.” Sam complained, his face screwing up into a scowl. “I’ll… look, see if I can find anything. Just don’t get yourself caught up in something you can’t get yourself out of… okay?” He demanded and then his voice dropped down, going quiet. “I can’t lose you too.”

Dean threw his arms around his brother at that. “You won’t, Sammy. I promise.”

~*~*~

Castiel flew home, his mind racing with questions about the new superhero that had shown up today. He didn’t like change, always feeling off kilter when something unexpected happened. According to his brother, he held onto the feeling well beyond the normal amount of time.

Castiel landed at home, his feet touching down without a sound. He panted, his hands running back through his hair, tearing his half-mask off his face in the same sweeping motion. His body throbbed with the leftover adrenaline from his flight. He felt antsy, skin tingling as if he had a million ants running down his spine. His feathers flared in response, causing another aching twist in his stomach.

This one had quite a different effect than the flight did. He could feel his chest start to heave with the desire to thrash something. It was obvious that Nighthunter was to blame. Who was this child who had shown up, made outrageous accusations and then had left after…

He frowned as he felt his feathers twist again, his body tensing as a bead of oil trickled down his back along the path of his spine from his oil glands.

Feeling a surge of panic and frustration and helplessness all rear up together, he threw his mask and let out a wordless shout. The echoing quality of it only served to further ramp up his frustration. On a sudden impulse, he grabbed a vase of flowers and lobbed it out across his balcony, dashing it on the stone slab.

He only snarled at the crashing noise, the splash of water, the slick dripping at the base of his powerful wings and he stormed inside the house.

He didn’t understand this reaction.

Of course he could acknowledge the attractiveness of the younger crimefighter. Nighthunter had been in a daring and clinging suit, he was well built, and those freckled cheeks, the chapped lips. Castiel craved to know what they would feel like against his own. He swore, the word clipped and full of unbridled irritation as he stormed through his room. He wrestled his suit off in an uncoordinated attempt to try to desensitize himself from the rolling, itching waves of energy.

This was what he got for not copulating more often. This was the reason flight was such a bad idea, got to him so badly. He was so desperate to connect to another and yet so abysmal at it that he sobbed in frustration at the slide of spandex across fever flushed skin. That combined with the feeling of his oil glands weeping slick down his back had him ready to release before he’d even touched himself.

With a final kick of his boots and a twisting, graceless fumble he threw his suit across the room, ignoring the crash into a lamp which sent both to the floor. He stood, naked and shivering in the center of his room, eyes catching his own reflection in the mirror. He looked flushed. His cock ached and throbbed between shaking legs as the adrenaline faded. It left him drained and feeling vulnerable. That same vulnerability he'd felt when he'd walked into the bank and realized he wasn’t alone and he didn’t have all the information. He reached down and gripped himself before immediately letting go, cheeks flushing. He wasn’t about to masturbate like a teenager to the thought of a man he didn’t even know!

He stormed into his bathroom. Turning on the showers, he tried to ignore the feeling of warm oil sliding down his back. How he longed to have someone bury their hands in his feathers, stroke their fingers along the base of his wings. He whimpered and glared at his reflection in the rapidly fogging mirror above the sink. He was being ridiculous. He smacked his hand against the glass shower door before yanking it open and stomping inside. He was determined to wash away the oil and the feeling of shame still clinging to him like the perfume of the flowers outside. His shoulders tensed as he let the water cascaded down his body. The hot steam cleared his sinuses as he took a deep shuddering breath. But he couldn't help the sob that escaped his throat as the massaging pulse of the water against too sensitive skin and wings.

And then it was all lost.

Something inside of him broke as he gripped himself. Waves of dizzying pleasure washed through him as his other hand shot up to brace against the wall of the shower. He hadn’t showered with his wings out in months, forgetting each time just how sensitive they were when he usually held them under such tight control. The freedom to have them out, the feeling of water trickling down his spine and blending with the oil sent him finally crashing to his knees. 

Pain blossomed in his knees as the sensitive joints hit the tile floor as his hand began to move at a rapid pace over his cock. He wheezed, the mixture of vulnerability, need, loneliness, and lingering adrenaline swirling inside of him as he mechanically pumped his fist. His muscles seized as he grew closer, his breath coming in shuddering gasps. And then his traitorous mind flashed back to the chiseled jaw, the smirking dimples, the chapped lips, the deep voice…

He shouted wordlessly as he painted the wall with his release and slumped against the cool tile. He ignored the discomfort of his wing twisting against the tile while he gasped for breath. His eyes fluttered closed, and no one could tell there were tears mingling in the water dripping down his face from his hair.

Who was he?

~*~*~

Dean came home from work on Monday to find Sam on his computer at the kitchen table. He dropped his keys on the counter and made a beeline to the sink to scrub the grease from his hands. His tail twitched in his pants leg, desperate to be freed. It has been a long day and he was looking forward to getting out of his jeans and into something more comfortable.

Before his transformation, Dean had always worn tight jeans that accentuated his ass. Now that he had a tail, that wasn't much of an option. Unless he wanted the world to know that Dean Winchester had sprouted a prehensile tail covered in soft fur the same light brown as his hair. It had taken some getting used to but his balance, he found, was much improved. Not that he was a bumbling oaf before, but now he was downright graceful.

Except for the ability to generate force fields, which was harder to control when he was scared. When he'd woken up with the tail, he'd appropriately freaked the fuck out, which coincided with a shimmering bubble around his body that wouldn't let him pass through doors. It wasn't until Sam had talked him down did the force field fizzle and pop out of existence.

“Hey Sammy,” he said. “What's the good word?”

Sam looked up from his laptop and hesitated, seeming to steel himself as he crossed his leg under his laptop and squared his shoulders. All signs that he was about to give in when he didn’t want to and had to save face. “So… there’s a bit of chatter, it’s vague… probably nothing, Dean.” He warned as he looked up through his ridiculous, floppy bangs. The kid needed a haircut.

“Anyway like… there’s been some talk about a few houses in a neighborhood where people are vacationing and maybe a robbery. It’s not anything big though and it’s probably just stupid kids.” He said, the words tumbling out of his mouth as if to dissuade Dean.

Dean unbuckled his belt and let his jeans fall low on his hips, his tail working out of the leg of his pants until it sprung free of his waistband. He sighed with relief as his tail twitched and stretched behind him. “That's better,” he muttered. “Did they say when?”

Sam’s hand twitched when Dean’s tail got closer but he went back to typing before he could get himself punched. “Yeah uh… get this... tonight actually. They were thinking around seven which is when the neighborhood watch meeting happens.” he said. “Ironic.” he added and eyed Dean with a little smirk.

Dean checked his watch. Six-thirty. Just enough time to change. If he shadow walked he could get there in time… if the shadow walking went well. He'd never been successful at it, but there was a first time for everything, right? Dean pulled his shirt off over his head and walked toward his bedroom. “Any idea if Apis knows about it yet?” He called from the hallway.

“Do you want me to tweet him?” Sam asked from the other room, sarcasm dripping from the words. “No, I mean it’s not like he’d advertising that he’s out there fighting crime… he’s not checking-in to the local starbucks next to the action, Dean.” For someone who had finally hit puberty, Sam was pretty full of himself.

Dean shimmied into his suit, carefully threading his tail through its hole. He carried his boots and jacket to the living room. “Actually that's not a bad idea,” he said. “Yeah, I want you to tweet him.” He sat on the couch and stuffed his feet into his boots.

“Jesus, Dean, it was a joke.” Sam said and gave in, reaching out to stroke his hand down Dean’s tail, bringing an anticipatory smirk to Sam’s face.

Dean leapt from the couch with a shout. He scowled down at Sam and swatted the back of his head. “Damn it, Sam! You can't just touch another man's tail like that! What's wrong with you?”

Sam’s eyes crinkled and his dimples popped before he burst into laughter, bending over his laptop as his hair cascaded down in front of his face. “I’m not going to tweet him,” he managed through laughter, refusing to let the conversation go because Dean wigged out.

“Do it. You owe me after petting my freaking tail.” He zipped up his boots and stood, hands on his hips and tail bobbing. “Or set me up a Twitter and show me how and I'll do it.”

“Dean, No.” Sam blurted out, opening a website. “He… he doesn’t even have a fucking twitter Dean,” he said as he rolled his eyes and created a Nighthunter Twitter. “Apis, check this out,” he said and then hashtagged #crimefighting and #Apis and pushed send. “Well that’s not going to be effective.” His tone was bland and disbelieving.

“It'll work. He probably has a tech guy too. Or he is one, I don't know.” Dean clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Thanks,” he said. His tail came up and poked Sam in the ear.

Sam bleated and twisted away at the shocking sensation and glared at Dean. “Next time I’m rubbing it backwards.” He said. “Put your earpiece in.” He ordered.

“Got it,” Dean said, shoving the bud in his ear and striding back to his dark bedroom. He stepped into the thickest shadow and was gone.


	3. Playing Doctor with Crowley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #ApisIsTrending and Crowley is a Doctor...

Castiel moped over paperwork the entire day, his guard up and snapping at anyone who got close. Luckily, few people tried but he felt a pang of regret when he snapped at Charlie before lunch. He scowled and stormed out to get food, taking a moment to go sit in the garden and breathe in the fragrant air, trying to relax. He still felt that anxious buzz under his skin, the one that begged for his wings to be out and free. He sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face, glad to hear the sound of cars leaving in the distance as everyone went home. He took another deep breath, trying to quiet the pessimism that said he was likely to lose employees and interns if he continued to be his charming self.

All that changed when he heard the door open and his shoulders curled inwards, going tense again. He really didn’t have the patience to deal with anyone today. “I don’t want to ‘talk’.” he said, his fingers coming up to punctuate his gravelly snarl in sarcastic air quotes.

Charlie, ever fearless of Castiel's moods, walked right up to get boss and shoved her tablet in his face. “Well someone wants to talk to you. Nighthunter is on Twitter and #Apis is trending.”

“What?” Castiel asked. His stomach clenched and his wings slipped a little, bulging and sparkling at his back. He forced them back in before they could rip his shirt. “What does that mean?” he demanded. “What’s trending?” Nighthunter was the man. The man he… couldn’t stop thinking about. But he was trying to hide the desperation in his tone so Charlie wouldn’t hear it. She didn’t need to know how affected he had been the night before.

Charlie took the tablet back and swiped and tapped at it. “It means that the internet is talking about you. There's been talk about some possible break-ins in a residential area tonight. This Nighthunter guy plans to crash the party.” She clutched the tablet to her chest, her shirt with a picture of a game controller and the words push my buttons hugging her breasts. “So? Are you going?”

“Of course I’m going.” Castiel said, his tone brusque and he paused only long enough to clench his jaw and relax it. “Thank you,” he added, because it wasn’t her fault the cocky superhero had gotten under his skin.

He all but ran into the house, diving into his suit, the material sliding over his already too hot, too bothered body. He shifted and glared down at his cock, adjusting it so it wasn’t as obvious he was already affected by the thought of again meeting the cocky younger man . He was not a teenager; he would have control over his body.

He released his wings and cursed, slamming his fist into the wall to cause a shock of pain to rush through him instead as his wings ruffled and settled. He did it again so his head would clear and then he put on his mask. He wondered if this was a terrible idea, if he was putting himself or others at risk for hubris or base desires. But he realized suddenly that he didn’t care and before he could talk himself out of a reckless decision, unfurled his wings and took off toward the city.

~*~*~

Dean stepped out of the shadows and into the warm glow of a street light that had recently begun to hum. He looked around for a street sign. Bleeker. He meant to pop out on South. “Shit,” he muttered, tail twitching and swinging with irritation. “Damn shadow walking. Came out on wrong street again. What time is it?” he whispered into the settling dusk.

“Six fifty-four,” Sam answered through the headset.

“Crap. Okay let's try this again.” Dean stepped back into the shadows, trying to hold the image of South St in his mind. The world condensed around him and Dean's ears popped as he was thrown into pitch darkness. It was like a sheer black curtain had been hung between him and his destination and he pawed at it, willing it to part. At last the veil lifted and Dean stumbled over a chunk of concrete and landed face-first on the sidewalk with an “Oompf” of expelled air, tail erect. “Fuck me!” he wheezed.

“Uh… I’m not going to do that,” came his brother’s voice over the earpiece.

Climbing to his feet, Dean winced. That fall had hurt like a mother, not to mention the hit his pride took to fall on his face like that. At least he didn’t land on his tail. Yeowch.

He looked up and down the street, looking for anything out of the ordinary. About five houses down he spotted a brown panel van backed into a driveway, black-clad figures rushing around it. The figures looked around them and appeared generally suspicious. Bingo. “I found them,” he whispered. “I’m going in.”

“Dean hold on a second, like… breathe man. Is Apis there? How many guys are there? There aren’t any cameras for me to monitor you so you gotta give me some info before you go in half-blind and all cock.”

Dean slunk through the shadows between the houses, eyes glued to the figures surrounding the van. “I only count two so far,” he whispered. He cast his eyes to the sky. “I don’t see Apis. Looks like it’s just me.”

“Sorry, Man,” Sam’s tone was almost gentle in response as if he knew how much Dean wanted to see the winged crusader. “Okay, be careful,” His moose of a brother requested over the comm.

Dean picked his steps, keeping to the shadows and avoiding sticks, garden gnomes… chunks of concrete. The fur of his tail was smooth and still as he stalked through the lawns. At last he reached the house with the van parked out front. Two men loaded a large television into the back of it and a third had his eyes on the street, no doubt watching for police or interlopers. A feral grin broke out over Dean’s face. He wasn’t looking toward the house. He slipped out of the shadows, dashed to the back of the van where the two men were just turning around. They stared at him for a moment and that hesitation was all Dean needed. He slammed the doors on them, the heavy metal hitting them in the heads and taking them out at the knees at the same time. The men shouted and stumbled as the doors bounced back on their hinges.

The commotion drew the attention of the lookout, who drew a semi-automatic gun on Dean, aimed at his chest. Dean threw his right hand out in a panic, the fur of his tail puffing up and sending goosebumps over his legs. The air around him shimmered and when the lookout pulled the trigger, the round ricocheted off Dean’s force field. The robber cocked his head to the side for a second and emptied the magazine, eight more deafening pops that set dogs to barking and Dean’s ears to ringing. When the slide locked, Dean dropped his force field and ran at the shooter, tackling him to the driveway. He raised up to get enough leverage to start wailing on the guy, when he was hit from behind. There was a flash of blinding white pain and then darkness.

~*~*~

Castiel had flown at breakneck speed towards the city, his mind singularly focused on seeing Nighthunter. He had to admit, he was more excited than he should be about seeing the other man. Memories of the night before, touching himself while thinking of him only sent a headier thrill down his spine and up through his wings. The greater speed he was pushing himself to only served to twist his stomach and arouse him further than it usually did. Coupled with anticipation and his cock was hard in his suit, leaking precum that stained his luckily dark pants. He was hopeless and pathetic and he couldn’t do anything but fly faster.

He wondered if he could get the other man to tell him his real name?

He dropped down behind a house with a large tree, under cover from the thieves and dashed around the house to find them. He didn’t see them in the streets so he was curious to figure out where they were. His feathers vibrated in anticipation. Much to his sudden shame, he had slick pouring down his spine, soaking into the spandex of his suit and filling the air with a sweet scent. His blue eyes shone with annoyance as his body was rather more apt to admit the truth of his feelings than his brain was.

He panted, the breath strangled and hot in the cool air. His hand flew down to adjust himself again, trying in vain to hide how affected he was at just the thought of seeing the younger man again.

Christ. He didn’t even know the man. Just because he had made some sort of innuendo about a trip to the cinema together did not mean that Castiel was about to convince the man to copulate with him.

He swore to himself and moved forward, tensing as he heard the rat-tat-tat-tat-tat of a semi-automatic weapon. He burst out from behind the house, straight into the sky, feathers flared like daggers as his stomach dropped in fear.

He watched as Nighthunter held up some sort of shield and then tackled the shooter. He was almost ready to relax when one of the others came out of nowhere and cracked Nighthunter across the head with a pipe.

Watching the young man go down, body limp and blood pouring under light brown hair made Castiel’s blood boil. He let forth a raging scream as he flew straight at the robber, slamming him into the side of the van, denting the vehicle. He threw two punches, disregarding his strength which shattered the man’s nose and split his cheek. Then he picked the man up and threw him across the street to slam into another car. The force of the impact sent the car up on two wheels and tipping onto the sidewalk. Castiel’s chest heaved and he snarled at the man who had shot at Nighthunter and picked up the lead pipe, advancing on him next.

“No! No, Please!” The man screamed and threw his hands up, scrambling backwards in fright.

Castiel forced himself to stand down. The realization of what he’d done in response and the panicked tones he could barely make out over the other man’s ear piece brought him up short. “Leave.” He snarled at the robber and then stared at Nighthunter before picking him up and leaping into the air. “Siri. Call Charlie.” He demanded of his phone.

“What’s up, boss?” Charlie answered brightly.

“I need a doctor.” Castiel blurted. “Nighthunter got hurt. He got hit on the back of the head.” He was going to bring the man to his house. It was the only logical thing he could think of to do. Not that he was capable of logic. Even the usually intoxicating feeling of wind in his feathers and the dips of flight through the air drafts wasn’t touching him right now. The only thing he could focus on was the limp, heavy weight in his arms.

“Well there’s always the emergency room?”

“He’s masked.” Castiel explained, “Call Dr. Crowley, tell him I’ll pay triple if he gets to my house in the next 20 minutes,” he ordered. He didn’t care about money, he had plenty of it after all. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe and then something occurred to him right as he landed down. He carried Nighthunter to his bed and lay the man’s limp body on his sheets, the possessive thrill of seeing him there muted by the sheer panic he felt. He reached up and removed the earpiece from the masked man’s ear and held it up to his own. “He’s safe,” he said then crushed the earpiece so they wouldn’t be caught.


	4. You Are Extremely Concussed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets doctored, Cas has a happy accident.

Castiel had been sitting beside Nighthunter for what felt like centuries, terrified to touch him now that the man was lying on the bed. Once the anticipation became too much, the panic grew too great, he got up and paced the floor. Five steps, turn, five steps, turn. He was so caught up in the rhythm he missed the front door being answered. He was just turning back to the bed when Castiel heard the distinct sound of a man’s dress shoes on the hardwood floor outside his bedroom door, followed by three sharp knocks.

Castiel felt a rush of relief at that and he rushed over, opening the door and holding it open for Dr. Crowley. “He was hit in the back of the head with a pipe,” he said, the words pouring out of his mouth, not bothering to get into specifics or small talk with the irritable doctor. He shifted forward, wings vibrating anxiously as he stared at Nighthunter. “He hasn’t woken up yet,” he added.

Dr. Crowley paused just inside the door, mouth agape and eyes wide as he stared at Castiel’s back. “Um. Dr. Novak? Are you aware there are two very large wings coming out of your back?”

The wings in question fluttered and flared a bit before settling and Castiel glared at Crowley. “We’ll talk about it later,” he promised and pointed to Nighthunter. “Fix him.” He ordered, deep gravelly voice going lethal in its intensity. He didn’t have time for this.

Crowley gave Castiel a long look before shrugging and striding to the bed. “You’re the boss.” The doctor gave Nighthunter a once-over, then pointed down to his prone figure. “And we’ll talk about why this man has a tail?”

“I don’t know the reason for that.” He muttered and he turned to look at Charlie when she slipped into the room. “Can you try and figure out who he is?” he asked her under his breath. “He had someone communicating with him, I crushed it before asking for a name.”

Charlie nodded and hustled out of the room.

Castiel turned back to Crowley then and watched him as he examined Nighthunter, “But if he wakes and will share that information you may have it,” he said, adding to the previous statement, switching back to the first conversation.

Crowley set his medical bag down on the bed next to Nighthunter and carefully felt around his neck and shoulders. He reached into his open bag and pulled out a vial which he held under the masked man’s nose. After what felt like an eternity, Nighthunter stirred and opened his eyes. “W-what?” he managed, looking around the room with unfocused eyes.

Dr. Crowley laid a firm hand on his chest, keeping him in his prone position. “Easy, easy,” he said, British accent rolling out in a rasp. “Do you know your name?”

“Dean,” he answered, voice scratchy.

“Very good, Dean. Do you know what month it is?”

“August?”

Crowley nodded. “That’s a good boy. Can you roll over for me? You’ve a nasty wound on your head. I’d like to bandage it. Easy now, real slow.”

Dean rolled with exaggerated slowness, exposing the back of his head. The blood was bright red but there was so much of it, it matted his hair and stained the pillowcase. Crowley set to cleaning the wound with care, wrapping it with gauze. “There we are, all better. Get comfortable. I don’t want you moving unless it’s on a stretcher going to the emergency room. Now,” Crowley said, standing. “Would you care to explain to me why there is a rather impressive tail growing out of your rather impressive arse?”

Dean froze, panic in his eyes, and sank back into the pillows. “Oh. Oh fuck me sideways.”

“Raincheck, darling,” Crowley purred.

Dean’s tail twitched and twisted, the fur rippling, puffing out.

Castiel cleared his throat and if looks could kill, Dr. Crowley would be a greasy stain on the carpet about ten minutes ago. “Will you give us a moment?” he asked. His wings had stopped fluttering with such intensity as soon as Dean had woken up. Now they shuffled shyly behind him, his spine relaxing a bit when he saw that it caused the fur on Dean’s tail to smooth down.

Crowley nodded. “I don’t want you moving, you may have a concussion,” he warned Dean before stepping outside.

Dean.

The name seemed like the finest honey rolling off his tongue and he took a soft breath before he met the younger man’s eyes. That was even better than Nighthunter and his brain was echoing the name in time with the rapid pulse that pounded through his chest and head. He had a feeling he would never get the younger man out of his system now.

Dean felt his face, found his mask was still there and seemed to relax a little. “Thanks for the save, Apis.”

Castiel waited until Crowley and Charlie had left the room, closing the door behind them before turning to face Dean. “That was very wreckless of you, to go alone when they had weapons like that.” He said in a harsh whisper to the man. Now that he knew Dean--his brain caressed the name again--would be fine, he felt irritation rushing into his body. His wings vibrated with the surge of relief and irritation.

Dean tried to sit up, clutched his forehead, and laid back down, glaring from his position on the bed. “You fight alone. Unarmed. What’s the difference?” His tail twitched and swung with his bubbling anger.

“A black belt in three forms of martial arts, a weapon, and a method of getting away quickly,” Castiel said and fluttered his wings again, his eyes twitching down to Dean’s tail where it curled in response. “Dean…” The name escaped him before he could process his body’s acute need to hear it said aloud.

Dean licked his lips and affected a rather roguish smile for one lying prone and fully dressed on a stranger’s bed. “Well you know my name. ‘S only fair you tell me yours.”

After a moment's hesitation, Castiel moved closer to the man on the bed. His entire body yearned to touch the man again without the sourness of panic tainting the contact. “Castiel,” he said, his voice dark and fiery as he finally came close enough to brush a finger against the man’s tail which had been twitching harder, lashing with each step. His tail shuddered under Castiel’s finger and Dean blew out a breath.

A deep flush covered Castiel’s face as he felt his oil glands leak again, staining his uniform and scenting the air with pheromones. “I… I’ll go make you some soup,” he said and all but flew out of the door.

~*~*~

The door clicked shut behind Castiel and Dean’s hands flew to his face. “Son of a bitch,” he breathed. “Son of a bitch. What do I do now? Sam. Sam?” Nothing. Panic set it nice and firey in his gut. No Sam. He felt his ears. Nothing there. Fuck. Now two people knew who he was.

Double fuck.

And what’s worse was Sam was right.

Triple fuck. Fuck for days.

Okay, stay cool. His mind raced, which hurt. It literally hurt to think. He had to get out of here. Over by the french doors was a nice gathering of darkness he could slip through, all he had to do was get up….

He tried sitting, getting halfway before an overwhelming wave of nausea hit him and he collapsed back to the pillows. It was a luxurious bed and he had bled all over it. Well, that wasn’t his fault, Apis--Castiel--had put him there. His legs tingled and he looked down at his tail, which was all puffed out again, like a scared cat. “Would you calm down?” he said in a harsh whisper to the appendage. “Seriously, dude, chill.”

Dean froze, eyes going back to the ceiling. “Son of a bitch. Now I’m talking to my tail. What the hell.” He jabbed his thumbs into his eyes--carefully, because it hurt--and tried to take calming breaths without hyperventilating. Then he smelled it, something sweet. Like honeysuckle and vanilla. What the hell kind of man keeps that sort of air freshener in his bedroom?

Except it wasn’t air freshener, he realized. It was him. It was Castiel.

Castiel came back into the room with a tray. His wings immediately fluttered when he saw Dean and he frowned as his eyes roamed the bed, noticing Dean’s upright position. “You shouldn’t move, you’re extremely concussed.” He scolded the younger man, tone set firmly on the listen-to-what-I’m-telling-you end of the spectrum. He put the tray on the bedside table, his thigh inches from Dean’s knee and then he stood and gripped Dean by the jacket, pushing to get him to lie down again.

There was that smell again, stronger, headier, rolling off of Castiel in thick waves. He let the older man move him back to the pillows and breathed deep. “Sweet Jesus, what is that smell?”

~*~*~

Time seemed to screech to a halt and stand still for several loud heartbeats. Castiel felt as if his heart might actually explode and it took a moment for his lungs to remember how to suck in air.

His cheeks flushed a deep rosy color and he cleared his throat, desperate to hide the wheeze and his pounding pulse. “I made you soup?” he offered. He knew what Dean was talking about. His oil glands were weeping and his skin felt like it was on fire for how desperate he was for the other man to touch him.

His wings were fluttering with desperate vibrations and his hands trembled. But even if the younger man… Even if Dean did wish to copulate with him, he was in no state to. Still, Castiel’s hands burned from where they’d touched the body-warmed leather and he felt as if he were about to collapse from need. He hoped Dean was too woozy to realize just how affected he was by being this close to the man.

Dean looked him up and down, like he was undressing him with his eyes. When their gazes met again, the younger man was smirking. “How am I supposed to eat soup if you won’t let me sit up?”

Castiel paused… freezing in place and his lips twitched downward into a frown as he considered that. “I can get you another pillow and… feed it to you if you are unable” he suggested, tone still even so it didn’t even come off like flirting despite his body’s best efforts. Castiel felt both a rush of arousal and a bolt of discomfort for how blatantly sexual the younger man was being. He wasn’t sure how to respond to it, so he defaulted to his usual method of speaking to people and tried to ignore how the entire back of his costume was soaked.

Dean’s face turned into a pitiable frown as he inhaled before settling into the bed after a moment’s hesitation. “My head is killing me, man, and sitting up made me really dizzy. I bet I do have a concussion. Probably best if I don’t move too much… Isn’t that what the doc said?”

Castiel hesitated and nodded. “Yes, of course.” He shifted closer and sat on the edge of the bed. He stiffened as his wings pressed against the lines of Dean’s body and his jaw clenched. He yanked his wings back in tight against his back before he could do something embarrassing like moan.

He cleared his throat, the peppery taste of thick bile and panic filling his throat that he managed to subdue. Now if only he could be so effective with his racing heart. “I will feed it to you, you should stay awake as long as possible,” he said, not meeting Dean’s eyes as he settled the soup tray on his lap.

Dean gaped at Castiel’s wings. His tail twitched and stretched across the narrow distance toward the nearest wing, curling around the feathers and stroking down timidly.

Several things happened in rapid succession. The first was that liquid fire erupted in a straight line down every feather that Dean’s tail caressed. This sent a full spasm through his wings and caused his oil glands to gush again, filling the air with desperate pheromones. Castiel gripped the tray tightly and keened.

The tray jerked as he did and he pulled his wings back into his skin, exposing the slick back of his uniform and pearlescent sheen on his skin through the slits. Castiel was mortified at his reaction and a deep blush stained his cheeks as he kept his eyes bolted to the half spilled bowl of soup on the tray. He had a death grip on the tray now, using it to hide the fact that the bolt of pleasure from Dean’s touch had caused him to spend himself in his pants.

He swallowed several times and tried to compose himself, breath coming in harsh pants as he cleared his throat. He would never be able to look the other man in the eyes again.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Cas, are you okay?” Dean’s voice was laced with concern. He tried to sit up, gagged, and laid back down with a defeated moan.

“I… I am fine, Dean,” he said, his heart skipping a beat at the nickname that Dean had given him. No one had ever given him a nickname before… Well… Gabriel sometimes called him Cassie but it was never with concern and fondness like Dean had done. “I… my wings are… sensitive,” he said, a new flush erupting over his cheeks as he finally dared to glance at Dean.

Dean’s green eyes stared back at him through his half mask. They were full of regret. “I’m sorry. My tail is sensitive too.” He leaned to the side and gave Castiel’s back a glance. “That’s cool that you can put ‘em away like that. Wish I could do that.”

“Why?” Castiel asked as his back muscles flexed in self-consciousness. His wings were gossamer tattoos that spiraled down his back, not that they were very visible through the thin slits in his costume. “Your tail is beautiful and gives you many great advantages with speed and dexterity,” he pointed out, though his hands had not relaxed enough to risk reaching out and touching it. “A prehensile tail would be very advantageous… especially as a third gripping limb.”

“I suppose,” Dean muttered. “It’s a bitch to keep hidden though. Always feel like I have a wedgie.”

Castiel hummed and considered that and then cleared his throat. “Depending on the flexibility range of it, you could attempt to wrap it around your own waist instead of down your pants,” he suggested. “It might cause less strain on the muscles at the base and allow you to feel a bit more freedom in your movements.” he said.

The lack of judgement from Dean made it easier to ignore the sticky sensation in his uniform or the slick on his back. He released his grip on the tray to bring a spoonful of soup over to Dean’s lips.

Dean opened his mouth, eyes boring into Castiel’s.

Castiel worried his lip between his teeth as he carefully fed the soup to Dean. The intimacy of the moment made his heart race and his wings flutter beneath his skin, sending his body trembling. He brought the spoon back to refill then, the silence more intimate than Dean’s flirting had been earlier.

Dean laid a hand over Castiel’s before he could lift the spoon again. “Cas,” he breathed. He struggled to sit up, keeping his eyes fixed on some spot in front of him. When he was upright he breathed in and blew it out slowly, steadying himself. His hand moved up to cup Castiel’s cheek. They were inches apart now. “Would I be way out of line if I kissed you right now?”

Castiel had frozen and he hesitated before shaking his head. “No… I believe I would enjoy that greatly,” he admitted, his tone hesitant and shy. He had no experience with kissing and had never had occasion to become intimate with another. Having this young, gorgeous man request a kiss had his heart tripping and racing in his chest. He thought he might be having a heart attack… but the arrhythmia seemed worth it to press his lips against Dean’s.

It started out sweet enough, only a chaste brushing of lips. Then Dean’s lips parted and his tongue ghosted over the seam of Castiel’s mouth.

Based on his analysis, Castiel decided that kissing was not as difficult and mysterious as he had always assumed it would be. Yet somehow, despite the simplicity, it was terrifying. Still the pheromones he had inherited from the sting and his mutation made it very easy to figure out what to do next. Well, that and the few forays into porn that he had taken. He surged forward, hands running up Dean’s chest to his shoulders. He pressed his lips back against Dean’s, following his lead and slanting his face to the side so their noses wouldn’t crush together. He kissed him deeply and let his own tongue flick across the chapped lips he had dreamed about the night before.

His dreams had not come anywhere close to the reality of their roughness rasping against his sensitive skin. Dean’s tongue dipped into Castiel’s mouth, moving as if he was building a map. The younger man’s hand moved from Castiel’s cheek around to the back of his head, fingers tightening in his hair.

That left Castiel feeling ragged inside and his own hands came up, gripping Dean’s chin to keep him in one place as he kissed him back. At last he pulled away, his pupils blown with lust as he stared at Dean. “You’re concussed… Do we need to call anyone?” he asked. “To let them know you’re staying here tonight?” He was desperate to keep going but he knew it wasn’t good for the younger man.

Dean’s chest heaved a little, eyes heavily lidded, and he nodded. “I need to call my brother. He’ll be worried. I had an earpiece but it’s gone.” He felt around his jacket, then reached his hand into a pocket, pulling out the crushed remains of a cell phone.

Castiel frowned at that and he nodded before reaching into his boot and pulling out a new iphone and handing it over to Dean after unlocking it. “I’ll find something for you to wear to bed,” he suggested shyly and stood. He placed the tray on the table, twisting quickly to face the other way so Dean wouldn’t see the cum staining the front of his uniform. He felt the urge to shower and wondered if Dean would be okay to leave alone for that long. 

“Sam,” Dean said into the phone. “Sam, calm down. Sam! Would you shut up and listen to me? I’m fine. Just a concussion but--. Yes just a concussion, football players get them all the time. No, that was Ca--uh, Apis. Sam,” he groaned, his tone growing exasperated. “Look, I’m not making it home tonight. Yeah I probably shouldn’t try shadow walking, I might puke.” A long pause. “Are you done? Yes, I will see you tomorrow. Oh hey, call Bobby for me in the morning, tell him I’m sick.” Another pause. “No, don’t tell him that, are you crazy?” A long sigh. “Okay. You too.” The phone beeped as he hung up. Dean deleted the phone number from the call log before setting the phone down on the bedside table next to the sloppy soup tray.

Castiel came back and he had a pair of pajamas in his hands. “Would you like assistance?” he asked as he offered the clothes to the man. “I would offer to clean your hair but that might need to wait until tomorrow when you are not so dizzy.” The conversation with “Sam” had been nice to hear and it sent a pain of longing through him to speak to Gabriel. He would have to reach out to his brother later.

Dean let out a nervous chuckle as he accepted the bundle from Castiel, their fingers brushing. “No thanks, Cas. I think I’m good now that I’m upright.”

Castiel nodded and he swallowed. “I will check on you periodically throughout the night,” he said in a soft voice and he met the other man’s eyes before he swallowed. “Goodnight, Dean,” he said, the tone hushed.

Dean gave him the most genuine smile of the night. “Good night. And thank you for saving my ass.”

Castiel was at the door when Dean responded and in the shadows a small smile graced the other superhero’s lips. “It’s a nice ass,” he offered and he glanced over at Dean, the cautious flirt at odds with the bright blue eyes. And then he was gone, the door closing behind him without a sound.


	5. Are you saying you Princess Leia'd on Apis?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> UnaMOOSEd Sam, Badass Life!Coach Charlie and Dean being Dean

When Dean awoke his head pounded and his eyes were on fire. He squeezed his eyes shut against the sun smacking him in the face. He'd had the weirdest dream about kissing Apis.

His eyes flew open. He wasn’t in his own bed or his own room. He was in Apis’s house. Castiel's house.

The room was empty except for him, warm sunlight bathing the space in gold. He rose carefully from the comfortable bed and spotted his suit and jacket folded on a wing-back chair, his boots nearby. He hurried out of the borrowed pajamas, almost regretting to remove the soft material that smelled like fabric softener and that glorious fragrance that was Cas. But he had to get home to Sam. He hurried to dress in his own clothes and it occurred to him that he really had to piss.

Shadows. He needed shadows. He found one behind the heavy drapes that flanked the French doors. It wasn't terribly dark but it would work. Probably. He focused on his destination, his bedroom. Taking a few deep breaths, Dean stepped into the shadow. The darkness enveloped him, encasing him in what felt like the pressure of a deep ocean dive. His head throbbed and swam with the exertion of shadow walking. Behind the veil ahead of him his bedroom was blurry and unsteady. He focused as hard as he could manage through the blinding pain and walked on. At last the veil lifted and he was in his room gasping for breath and struggling to keep his balance, despite the best efforts of his tail. He barely made it to the trash can before he threw up. He heaved until he trembled, little coming out except for bile.

He stumbled to his feet, bracing himself against any sturdy surface he could get his hands on. Had to get to the bathroom. If Sam wasn't awake before, he sure would be now with all the commotion Dean made on his way to the toilet. At last he made it. He wrestled his way out of his suit, relieving himself with a sigh.

“Dean!” came the higher, panicked voice of his younger brother and a different crashing sound followed by “Shit!” then “Dean!” And suddenly his brother was standing in the doorway of the bathroom and pressing in before seeming to catch up with what was happening. “What the fuck, Dean!” he bit out, voice full of ire.

“What the fuck yourself, can't a man piss in peace?” It was gratifying to see Sammy was worried about him and all but his dick was out and that wasn’t cool. His tail fluffed in aggravation and lashed which only made the dizziness worse.

“Sorry,” Sam managed and backed out of the doorway and leaned against the opposite wall. “That was fucking scary, Dean,” he said once Dean had finished and staggered out into the dimly lit hallway.

“You're telling me,” Dean muttered, tucking himself away and flushing. He turned to show Sam the back of his head. “Is my bandage bloody? My head is throbbing.” And swimming. And burning. And generally full of suck.

Sammy rushed forward, causing his tail to puff again before settling and God he hated how traitorous it was. Fuck what Cas said, it wasn’t cool at all. Sam’s fingers were prodding his bandage and carefully examining it… when did Sammy get taller than him anyway? “It looks okay.” Sam said and his hands came down, gripping Dean around the shoulders and bracing him to Sam’s side. Heh, he might be tall but he was still skinny… too skinny. Dean felt a small wave of guilt for that. “Come on let’s go sit down,” his brother insisted and led him off.

Dean let his giant of a little brother lead him to the living room and ease him onto the couch. He took off his mask and stretched his legs out in front of him. “So I have news,” he said, eyes on the ceiling.

Sam went still for a second then a heavy blanket was being draped over Dean and Sam went off to the kitchen, coming back with a bottle of water. “What news?” he asked Dean then, twisting the cap off and holding it out, eyebrows raised.

Dean accepted the bottle and took a sip, his stomach rebelling at being thus assaulted. “Well, my force fields stop bullets for one thing. I got my melon split by a thug with a pipe, I guess. Apis rescued me.” He took another swallow of water as he decided how much to share with Sam. Better to be an open book. “And I may have kissed him.”

Sam stared at Dean and was so stunned by the information that Dean wouldn’t have been surprised to see cartoon smoke coming out of his ears. Sam’s mouth opened, then closed as he regarded Dean, head dipping to the side as his eyes narrowed. Then his lips twitched. “Are you saying you Princess Leia’d on Apis?”

“No, I was unconscious when he saved me.” Dean closed his eyes, smiling at the memory. “Besides, he's a better kisser than my brother will ever be.” He raised an eyebrow at Sam as he watched for a response, his tone teasing.

“Gross.” Sam said but his lips twitched a little in response. The relief he felt at having Dean home was evident on his face and he looked impossibly young once he relaxed a little into the couch at Dean’s usual humor. “Do you have to keep doing this?” came the question after a moment of silence. Sam’s eyes had dropped down to his lap and he looked like the little kid who had Dean check for monsters under his bed.

“What, the superhero gig or teasing you?”

Sam shifted on the couch and his legs came up to curl indian style. “The superhero gig,” he said, his tone trying to deepen to show he meant business. “Yesterday you promised me I wouldn’t lose you but you got attacked and you could have died Dean.” His brother’s face was becoming flushed and splotchy as his breathing got quicker. “People die from getting hit in the head like that!” he said and his voice cracked. “That was only a couple of small time robbers! And you got shot at! And then there was nothing and no one was talking to me and I didn’t know where you were and it was hours, Dean!” he finally shouted.

Dean gripped Sam's shoulder with one strong hand. “But I'm fine, Sam. I'm fine.” His tail drooped next to him on the couch. “See? No holes. I'm bulletproof!” He licked his lips and looked down into his lap, picking at the label on his water bottle. “Maybe Cas will, I dunno, train me or something.”

Sam exploded off of the couch and started pacing back and forth. “Oh good so just because the fucking machine gun didn’t kill you, you’re going to ignore everything I just said? You’re so selfish,” Sam spat and then stormed out of the living room and down the hall, slamming the door to his room.

“Oh, come on, Sammy!” Dean yelled after his brother. When he didn't receive an answer, he let out a heavy sigh and sank back into the couch. “Teenagers,” he muttered. Sam would come around. Eventually. In the meantime Dean had to learn not to get knocked the fuck out again.

~*~*~

Castiel woke with the unpleasant sensation of his skin burning in intense sunlight. His consciousness returned with a blinding red gleam over his eyelids. He grumbled, turning his head into the scratchy, raw-silk throw pillow his head was propped upon. He felt the uncomfortable sensation of a decorative button pressed into his cheek and he blinked, confusion filling his entire body.

Well, confusion and pain.

He had fallen asleep in a twisted position with his back screaming in protest from the firm cushions and subtle support bar in the back edge of the couch.   
“Alexa,” he grumbled in a raspy version of his usual growl. “Remind me to order a more comfortable couch.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Castiel griped as he untwisted himself, gritting his teeth against the spasm in his back and sitting up with a groan. Why the hell was he on the couch anyway?

Charlie's short red hair came into the to room, a bright smile on her face and a cup of green tea in her hand. Castiel could smell the honey in it. “Morning boss!” she said, Converse sneakers not making a sound on the wooden floor. “I brought you some tea and some information. Which do you want first?”

“Tea,” he grudgingly admitted. His entire body hurt and his mouth felt dry and tacky. He was reaching for it before realization set in and he bolted upright.   
“Dean!” 

How could he forget? He rushed past her to his bedroom to check on the younger man, pushing the door open and coming up short to the empty bed. There was still blood on the pillow from the night before and that sent a sickening clench through his gut. He glanced over at the bathroom and then out to the balcony but the man was nowhere to be seen.

He wasn’t sure why it brought tears to his eyes, but it did.

Charlie followed Castiel. She held the tea cup out to him, a firmness in her eyes that told him she wouldn't be dismissed during his outburst.

“I apologize, Charlie,” he muttered and took the tea, letting the warmth of the cup sear at his hands before he brought it up for a sip, willing the burn of tears in his eyes to dissipate. He was not going to lose control of his emotions like a lovestruck child due to the younger man leaving. He would not think about this as a rejection. There was nothing there to reject. “You were saying something about having news?” he asked.

“Information,” she corrected. “About your masked man.” She handed over her tablet, not bothering to disguise the grin on her face. “Meet Dean Winchester. He doesn't have any social media but his younger brother Sam does.” The tablet browser was open to Facebook and a picture of Dean embracing a tall boy in a graduation cap and gown stared back at him. Charlie continued. “Now, Sam is smart, he has the rest of his profile locked down. But Dean had a resume posted online and I skimmed his home phone number off of it.” She held up an index card between two fingers. “Do ya want it?” She smirked.

Castiel’s heart raced for a moment and he nodded but didn’t take it. “Please,” he said, trying to win her back over. “Charlie… he…” he paused and cleared his throat. “It would be good to check up on him later, to ensure he is still well.” 

“Then call him,” she said, pushing the card at him. “He's your fanboy.”

Castiel hesitated. He glanced at Charlie and took the card, his long fingers clenching around it as if it would disappear the moment that he loosened his grip. “I believe my biological responses to him are heightened. I… find him attractive,” he admitted.

“He is pretty dreamy. If you're into that sort of thing,” she added. “Why don't you ask him out?”

Castiel considered. “Well he did suggest he would be open to a trip to the cinema.” He said. He considered it before nodding. “Thank you Charlie,” he added before sipping his tea. After a moment he squared his shoulders. “I think I will make that phone call.,” he said and tugged out his phone.

He went to his balcony, lost in his own thoughts and entered Dean’s number into his phone, saving it under Dean Winchester. The name suited the younger man and he hesitated before pushing the call button. His wings vibrated beneath his skin and his stomach jumped with nerves.

A gruff voice answered the phone. “Hello?”

Castiel’s whole body pulsed with need at the simple sound of honey and whiskey and promise in that voice.

“Hello Dean.”


	6. Why Would They Ship Us?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apis gets the balls to ask Night Hunter out and then Castiel's brother shows up with annoying news.

“Cas?” he asked, knowing the answer. He could only hope the want he felt wasn't conveyed in his tone. “How'd you get this number?” He wasn't mad, just curious. Something about the other man was so damn trustworthy.

“You have it listed on your resume online,” Castiel explained with no further detail. His voice was deep and husky, almost as if he had to strain to speak so deeply. It shot sparks through Dean and sent his tail flicking before curling in on itself. It wasn’t only the older man’s wings that affected him, then.

“Oh,” was all he could think to say to that. If he found his resume then he knew his full name. He should probably panic about that. But what would Castiel do with the knowledge that wouldn't put him in danger too? “Listen, thanks again for the save last night. Were you calling to make sure I'm not doing anything stupid?” _Or selfish_ , Sam's words echoed in his head and it stung. His tail flopped around his legs, the tip twisting downward.

“... That was one purpose for my call,” came the response after a hesitant start.

“Well I'm not. I'm resting just like the doctor said. It hurts too much to move.” He was a little irritated to be henpecked but at the same time, Castiel's concern was endearing. “And the other purpose?”

“When we first spoke you asked if I was asking you out on a date. I had suggested that people enjoyed going to the cinema on Saturdays,” came the measured, even tone.

Dean grinned like a fool, then locked it down. He was going to make Cas work for this. “I remember.”

There was a pause and then a slow sigh, or perhaps a nervous breath. “I would like to take you on a date,” Cas said. His voice was still deep but soft, hesitant. “As… As Castiel,” He added after a moment. “Not as Apis. That would compromise identities and the uniforms might be awkward.”

Dean chuckled. “Not to mention I hear you're still all the rage on Twitter. Last thing we need is the internet shipping us.”

There was a pause, then Castiel’s voice cracked with confusion. “What is shipping? Why would someone send us through the mail?”

Dean let out a belly laugh that made his head throb. “I'll explain it to you later, Cas. Yes. I'll go out with you.” His tail twitched excitedly.

There was a pleased hum on the other side of the phone. “Will you text me when you are free? I’ll make arrangements and pick you up?” he suggested. There was a pause and then “I am glad you’re well. Perhaps get some rest, but have Sam check on you,” he said in a firm voice, almost coming off like an order.

Dean shifted at the tone from the other man. A huge part of him wanted to rebel and do the opposite but his tail was twitching and his head was throbbing but he was pretty sure his cock had too. “Uh, yeah I'll text you when I get my phone replaced later today. This is my old home phone,” Dean explained, still trying to figure out how to respond to the other. “I’ll be fine, dude. I can move without throwing up now so that's a plus.”.

“Dean.”

“Yeah alright,” Dean gave in.

There was a pause and then Castiel’s deep voice came sliding out of the phone. “I will speak to you soon, Dean.” There was promise in the tone. Then the phone went silent.

 

~*~*~

 

As promised, Dean had texted him later that day so that Castiel had his cell phone number. Two days later he texted again, said he felt up to going out if the offer still stood.

Castiel had been on the verge of screaming for the past thirteen hours, approximately three hours after his brother Gabriel had shown up unannounced. Castiel loved his elder brother dearly, but sometimes he was a tremendous child. He tried Castiel’s patience with his unending energy, sexual comments, and lack of personal space. Castiel sometimes wondered if having a litter of puppies around wouldn’t be less exhausting.

Worse still, he knew about the mutation that Castiel had developed and the fact that he had started fighting crime. His brother had nigh encouraged it. But he was terribly nosy about the whole thing and Castiel found himself much less willing to share information now that Dean was in the picture.

He had saved Dean’s number as soon as it came through. Sitting for a moment to get his heart under control from it’s frantic racing. Gabriel must have picked up on something because he had sent Castiel a shrewd look. He'd started drilling Castiel on his dating status, if he’d finally gotten laid yet and several other impolite and personal questions.

“Cassie, all I’m saying is that I’m worried for you. It’s not natural to be as good looking as you are and not getting your dick wet at least twice a month,” his brother’s grating advice came.

Castiel was going to jail for fratricide if he didn’t stop talking.

The second message was sent while Castiel was packing up for the conference. Gabriel had appeared with a purpose beyond being a nuisance. He had come with an extra ticket and an emergency request for a presentation for Castiel due to the scheduled presenter falling ill. Castiel felt for Kevin. The boy was a brilliant mind in their field and he enjoyed speaking about their respective projects with the younger man. But his aggravation at being called upon last minute to attend and present findings for him was sending low, frustrated vibrations through the air via his wings.

They had been broadcasting his emotions for the past hour, enough to gain him a clear berth as he sulked and packed up dress clothes and suits for the conference. He sighed and paused long enough to pick up his phone. _I would love to take you out but something has unfortunately come up_ , he sent to Dean.

There was a long pause before his phone chimed with Dean’s response: _What kind of something?_

Castiel was so aggravated with Gabriel and the sudden trip and the emergency plans he had to put in place to have someone watch the bees and the lab. He didn’t even want to get into it. _Work thing came up_ , he responded and tossed his phone on the bed to pick up a pair of slacks.

He had to fight to stifle a groan as Gabriel gave the door jamb a jaunty knock and let himself into Castiel’s room. “Cassie! Are you still moping?” the older brother demanded. “Cheer up, we can go pester Luci after the conference.”

Castiel’s phone chimed again. _K_ , was all it said.

Gabriel glanced down and reached for Castiel’s phone which sent a bolt of panic through the younger Novak brother. He snatched it up off the bed and shoved it into his pocket. “Do not…” he started before biting back his words and trying not to give such a sharp response. “I would appreciate it if you would respect my privacy”.

Gabriel whistled lowly. “Caaaastiel,” he drawled, as if savoring the shape of his brother’s name in his mouth. “Methinks the little bro protesteth too much. Was that a lady friend?” he asked excitedly. “Tell me everything.”

“No,” Castiel growled in response, wings twitching so hard his back stretched and they suddenly flared out and settled into an angry drone.

Gabriel wouldn’t be distracted, “No it wasn’t a lady, or no you won’t tell me?” he demanded and he shifted his stance so he wasn’t so close to Castiel’s wings, even as he reached up to pat one. “Come on little bro, tell me!”

Castiel’s eyes went wide and he flared his wings and slapped at Gabriel’s hands. He was so sensitive there and so close to the edge after the past several days. He didn’t want anything torrid and inappropriate to happen due to his brother’s inability to keep his hands to himself. “Gabriel!” he hissed at him and his cerulean eyes crackled with sharp irritation. He was very over his brother’s shenanigans. “I love you dearly, Brother, but I would love you better if you were silent,” he bit out.

Gabriel went still a moment and held the stinging hand to his chest, face falling. Castiel hated that he felt a quick flash of guilt at the dejected expression. “Harsh bro,” The older brother said. “You know I only bother you about it because I’m worried about you,” he added in a quieter tone.

Castiel counted to ten in his head then did it again in Latin. “I know,” he agreed calmly. “It is not something I am comfortable discussing at the moment,” he said in a solemn tone before internally wincing and giving Gabriel a little more. “Not yet, I wish to be more certain there is something to share before I speak of it,” he explained.

Gabriel brightened at that and opened his mouth to begin his new barrage when Charlie knocked, interrupting him before he could start. Castiel had never been happier to see her face.

“Hey, boss,” she said with a wide smile. “Here’s the literature you asked for.” She handed him a two-inch thick, three-ring binder full of papers. “I know you asked the intern to do it, but she thought he lost the files.” She rolled her eyes, but the smile remained. “I got to rescue the damsel.”

Castiel’s lips twitched a little and he accepted the binder to pack into his suitcase. “Thank you Charlie. You excel at damsel rescuing,” he assured her. He was desperately glad for the brief reprieve before Gabriel sunk his sticky, candy coated claws back into him.

“My hotel room is booked? The car as well? Plane ticket?” he requested then hesitated. “I don’t know where my passport is…” he realized as he began to spiral into a panic.

Gabriel ran his hands down Castiel’s wing while Castiel was distracted and not paying proper attention to his prank-pulling older brother. The effect was instantaneous. Gabriel’s actions earned himself a full-body shudder and a loud squawk before the taller man yanked away, cheeks flushed a very deep red.

“Gabriel don’t do that!” Castiel snarled at him, his body trembling a little. It felt as if someone had blindfolded him and rubbed his entire body down with velvet and silk. His cock was twitching and his skin had erupted in goosebumps and he was almost nauseous for having that intense of a reaction to his older brother. Especially the one he had caught several times in unfortunate positions with a variety of lovers. Blegh.

Charlie’s smile faltered and she gave Castiel a sympathetic look, then glared at Gabriel. “Dick move, sir.”

“... Apparently,” Gabriel managed and he looked sheepish in that moment. “Sorry Cassie, didn’t realize it was that big a deal,” he offered and spread his hands. “I’ll just leave you here with Charlie to find your shit and go raid your bar,” he suggested and scurried away.

Castiel groaned and slumped down on the bed, his face drawn and haggard. He was _tired_ , he realized. Tired and feeling a vague sense of worry about Dean’s one letter reply. “Thank you for the help,” he managed after a moment to get himself under control.

Charlie sat down next to him. It was the opposite side of the bed from where he’d laid Dean down a few nights ago. The sheets had of course been changed and the blood stains were long gone, but the bed somehow seemed emptier for it. She put a benign hand on Castiel’s forearm. “Anytime.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied his face. “What’s wrong, Castiel?”

“I was…” he cleared his throat and tried again. “I asked Dean to allow me to take him out on a date,” he whispered. “I had hoped to take him out tonight, but I had to turn down the date to catch the flight,” he sighed. He hesitated a moment longer and glanced up at her, his brows drawn in a quizzical expression. “I do not understand why my body has been reacting this way,” he expressed. “I understand the human biology of it, of course. But I did not expect to be this affected,” he admitted.

Charlie gave him a warm smile. “Well, human male anatomy isn’t really my specialty,” she admitted. “But it sounds to me like you might have a little more than the hots for him.”

“That’s entirely illogical,” he protested, even though he could admit to himself that truer words had never been spoken. “It would be irresponsible of me to have developed feelings for someone I have met twice,” he pointed out. He shifted and settled himself a little firmer in the corner as if it would keep him from having to admit how head-over-heels he was.

“The heart wants what the heart wants, boss. There’s no logic or responsibility involved there.”

Castiel hesitated before he brought a hand up, running it through his hair, dropping his chin a little and nodding. He might have been feeling things, but he still wasn’t entirely sold on it being anything other than a crush. He was just going to have to wait and see. “Would you please help me find my passport? I should leave within the next half hour,” he pointed out, changing the subject.

Charlie’s warm smile turned into a smirk and she pushed on Castiel’s back until he stood up. “Now I’m not being fresh,” she said, and reached into his back pocket, pulling out the passport. “Here you go.”

Castiel’s cheeks flushed and he took it, forcing his wings to slip back under his skin and he coughed. “Thank you Charlie,” came the sheepish reply. He had to focus. Gabriel had obviously rattled him, but he wasn’t ready to admit defeat yet. “I hate to ask, but would you inform Gabriel we’re almost ready to leave and call the car?” he requested of her.

“Happy to help, boss,” she said and strode out of the room.

Castiel managed to keep himself calm and collected through the loading process into the black SUV that he’d hired. He kept his calm when he noticed Gabriel had an entire bag of candy in his briefcase. He even brought himself to apologize to Gabriel for snapping at him in the bedroom, expressing that he would let his brother know if there was anything to discuss on the subject of his love life.

He managed to focus in on the particulars of the conference with Gabriel. They went through the research he would present, distracting himself throughout the ride over and the security check. He didn’t allow himself to think of Dean again until he’d settled in his seat on the plane, buckled in with his bags sensibly stowed. He would make it up to the other man as soon as he got back.

The thought of seeing Dean again smoothed the stress lines between his brows and he glanced out the window with a soft sigh as they took off. Four days… then he could see Dean again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Remember we love reviews! :) <3

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are like Whiskey... please get us drunk!


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